


Quinlan

by J_Flattermann



Series: Bridges [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Flattermann/pseuds/J_Flattermann





	Quinlan

Here I was. On that same f**king spot.   
Staring down on that same murky brew.  
Contemplating! _Should I jump?_

Only a few months ago I had found him in the same spot. He too, contemplating and it was me then who had talked him out of it.

I looked along the bridge. Empty. Both ways. Not a soul - there was just me!

_What was I hoping for? That he would come to my rescue?_

I heard a bitter laugh and it took me a moment to realise that it had been me who had uttered it.

It was my own fault! All of this!  
Hadn’t I told myself often enough? “DO NOT FALL FOR A CO-WORKER!”  
Especially not for one you are sharing rooms with!

It all had begun so promisingly, after that day when I had found him here on the bridge.

The next morning we went to work together. He folded himself inside my old bug, where he sat with his head firmly pressed into the lining of the ceiling. Aware of his uncomfortable position I had tried to avoid the potholes on the road.

At the office I could see with my own eyes how popular he actually was. We were just through the door when he was called by the boss. Meanwhile I was trying to ignore the stares I received for arriving with him. 

Dennyson clapped my shoulder wishing me ‘good luck’ for my first day and vanished into the boss's office with the man’s arm around his shoulder. I turned my attention to the receptionist, trying hard to get hers for she was staring open-mouthed after my new room mate.  
My effort was interrupted when the head of HR walked in.   
“I’ve taken care of that, Stacey.” He’d said, hooking himself to my arm whilst smiling at the blond at the reception and then leading me away. It was only then that she realised that I was there. However, Mark, the head of HR waved his dismissal at her protests that she had to take the details down for fire safety reasons.  
“My guest log will be out of date.” She whined.

“He’s starting today. I'll get his badge ready. Don’t worry.” Mark shouted without turning, steering me into his office and I could feel the burning stare of the rest of the staff on my back.

During the following weeks we both had been extremely busy and apart from a few meetings at work and a few morning commutes we hardly saw each other. Most of the evenings he spent away from home as well.

He was a fervent clubber. Going home only to change and immediately out on his rounds painting the town red as he moved from club to club until the small hours. Sometimes he even came to work directly from the last bar he’d been to. I've never been much of a socialite, so apart from the first invitation he never asked me again.  
That night was branded in my brain in fiery letters! Terrible! Embarrassing!

I am rubbish. I can’t dance - two left feet, that’s me, and the flickering lights and the throbbing bass from the speakers were giving me headaches.   
He was soon surrounded by people and I wasn’t sure if they were long-time friends or acquaintances he'd just met. You couldn’t tell the difference. I just sat or stood in a corner - watching - watching him. The music was too loud to hold a conversation. I couldn’t understand a word. He and his ‘friends’ didn’t seem to care.   
All I saw was their moving lips. When they laughed, so did I, feigning that I had grasped what they had said.

At one point I got up declaring to have to go to wash my hands. The truth was that I just left - went home. This wasn’t my crowd, not the place for me to be. My head, my ears were drumming for the rest of the night. It made me feel dizzy to the point of vomiting even though I hadn’t had too much to drink.  
He didn’t come home that night!

And I …

I began to dread, yes - hate his nights out. Still, I was too afraid to say a word because if I did, maybe he would just move out?  
It was this jealousy, seeing him going partying each night, that made me aware that I had fallen for him.  
And this was when the hurts began.  
*sighs*  
I suffered in a cowardly silence, not able to speak up for being afraid of scaring him away.

Then there was still the matter to do with his own apartment.  
Each time the phone rang for him my heart sank, especially when it was a call from his estate agent or his lawyer. Surely his former ‘friend’ must have been evicted by now and he would surely want to pack up and leave, return to his own home.

Once, during a lunch-break at work he brought the topic up, telling me that he had fallen out of love with his old apartment and that he had asked the estate agent to sell it after they had gotten rid of the occupant.

My heart was jumping with joy even though I just nodded, not showing how I actually felt.  
All I said was something like “Sure, no problem, you can stay as long as you like. After all you are paying half of the rent.”  
 _AH - YOU COWARD!  
So when? When had it become unbearable? When had I lost the plot?_  
I must have - otherwise why was I standing her on this f***ing bridge contemplating jumping?

 

Again I looked down into that brackish water, soiled with oil and other filthy debris . I wasn’t such a good swimmer as I was lacking in muscles. I surely would soon drown.   
The thought gave me the shivers.  
 _YIKES - swallowing that murk._

Over the shivering I hadn't realised that my mobile phone which I always had on vibration only, had gone off. I fished it out of my trouser pocket and stared at the screen.

It was him -- Denny was calling me.  
I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I left it ringing out in my hands just staring down at the bloody thing in my hand - humming.

It finally stopped.   
Only to hum again. - Sending a text this time.  
It was him again.

 

“There's f***ing nothing in the fridge. Where is breakfast?” the text read.  
I stared at the screen and then down to the plastic carrier-bags at my feet. 

Another humming pulled me awake out of my blank-out.

“Where are you? Are you shopping? Hurry bloody up - I'm starving”

I shook my head to clear the vision before my eyes. _Now was the time to climb over that f***ing railing and just let go! Let go - of everything!_

Still I was standing as if rooted.

Again the phone vibrated in my cold fingers.   
“WHERE ARE YOU?”

I contemplated - jumping? Or answering that fucking phone?

I don’t know for how long I had been standing; all I know was that I almost jumped out of my skin when a hand fell onto my shoulder.

“Quin, what are you doing?” Denny said softly. 

I turned and looked at him. His face was stern. Not a smile - not even a hint.  
I must have been as pale as a whitewashed wall for he took me in his arm turning me away from the railing.  
He said, very quietly,   
“Let’s go home.” “Let’s have breakfast.”

He must have picked up the plastic bags at my feet and I never realised. All I know was that he pushed me and somehow my legs gave in and I walked next to him all the way off the bridge, along the streets and up the stairs to our flat.


End file.
